


"sorry"

by dont



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont/pseuds/dont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's fine. I don't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"sorry"

Yosuke was kind of a brat. In more ways than just one, really, to be perfectly frank. At least he wasn't really the type to be throwing tantrums left and right like he'd had a patent on the matter. But that was only because of what he considered his dignity, and even that was something he'd have to religiously scrape out from the bottom the barrel in order to muster up enough to brag about with.

Of course, if you'd happened to ask anyone else whether they shared that opinion, all you'd get in response was a fluster of, "Haha, no...Yosuke? Sure, he can come on a little strong sometimes, but we love him anyways!" followed by the hastiest excuse available to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. And that's fine.

He turns over in his sheets once, twice, and he can feel the moon disappearing into the edge of the room.

Distantly, he hears high pitched and somewhat comical groaning, and he knows his irresolute shuffling has become more than just background noise you can just shut out with a couple hour's worth of clenched eyes and gritted teeth. He feels an itch coming on and he doesn't even care.

"Yosuke?" Says Teddie, and deep in the crevices of his sleepy cerebrum, guilt gnaws at him like a swarm of termites. "Sensei told us to get as much sleep as possible tonight, but I can't even concentrate on counting, well, anything with all your rustling!! so please, for Shirogane-kun's sake!" Another chomp. Ouch, right in the Souji.

He starres at the opal-shrouded ceiling with wide and exaggerated optical orbs and contemplates kicking both his legs up into the air just to make a ruckus for the hell of it. He's bored, bored straight out of his carefully dyed and retouched head and he can't stand waiting for tomorrow anymore. He needs to stop feeling useless and instead start doing something he's pretty confident that he's good at.

Instead he lolls his head to the side, a half ridden-up smile perked onto his face that no one can see but he still feels cool for doing. "Yeah okay, I'll stop. I'm just nervous that's all," he replies into the dark. The shrill line of light makes the rigid outline of his desk just clear enough for him to imagine completely, and all he really wants to do is get up already. Hell, even doing some late-night recreational studying in advance seems like a promising idea at this point. He doesn't do anything, of course, because that'd be annoying.

"Oh, I get what you mean!! And it might not sound like a lot coming from me, but I know that if we all do our bear-y best we'll save Naoto-kun like it was nothing at all! So don't worry, Yosuke, 'cause I won't let you down!!" Teddie's tired but nonetheless sincere enthusiasm makes him glow on the inside, kind of like someone just finished baking a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies in his stomach.

"Good," he pauses before continuing, "And thank you. Also, get out of my closet already. God, can't you learn how to use a proper bed for once?" Of course, he says the last part in a tongue-in-cheek chide and grins when he hears a baffled sigh, followed by a series of fumbled stirring. 

Yosuke feels hungry but he tries not to move as much anymore. After all, he kind of owes it to the bear for thinking all those jerkish thoughts. Teddie can be kind of a nuisance almost all of the time, but all in all he's a really good guy. And Yosuke's just an asshole. A rotten, self-centered and obnoxious asshole. Being quiet for once in his life was really all he could do.

He almost starts thinking about Souji but the firewalls in his mind blow that train of thought right off the face of the planet before it can even let out it's first 'choo'. Secretly, he's a little proud of how good he is at evading sensitive topics like this, even with himself. Even though it's probably just making things worse.

The cookies in his belly begin to mold.

\------

Souji thinks of himself as a pretty boring guy, to be honest. His scales of justice are tipped considerably further on the more merciful side, which is good, he guesses. He's very good at placing others in front of him. That's a good trait to have.

Souji is good.

He doesn't even really need to try. Most of what he does is just him following his gut instinct, so when people are drawn to him because of it it's kind of weird. It can't be that bad though, he supposes.

When Yosuke glares at him with big, owl eyes whenever something like that happened, mostly all he wants to do is smile and glare back in return. A majority of the time, though, the person he's trying to lend an ear to was still talking and that would be a very rude and inconsiderate thing to do. Souji is also very good at not doing just that.

Yosuke feels like strangling him sometimes, but then he figures it must be pretty hard being so perfect and unattainable all at once like that. So he forgives him.

Most of the time, Yosuke feels like a twelve year old trapped in the body of an individual who's dangerously bordering the thin line of legality all too soon, too fast. He doesn't even trust himself with the adult scissors, and yet he's expected to know what the letters on the gear shift mean already without writing it on the back of his hand first. 

He spends too much time comparing himself to the other boy, and it's probably doing just wonders to his psyche. Souji is a straight honors student, can throw a decent pitch and has accumulated enough points from volunteer work to make any major-league university fall to its knees in submissive want. He could serenade the masses in his sleep, and Yosuke still needs to rely on imagining people in their underwear to relieve his off-the-cuff bouts of nervousness. He tries that once, on Souji, and ends up with his name on the tip of the tongue for the proceeding fifteen minutes. Fuckin' hormones, man.

Thinking of all the things Souji can do that he can't is kind of pointless, because almost anything could constitute at this point. Can Souji cook a decent meal? Yeah, no shit. Can he pet a cat just right? You betcha. Can Souji climb a tree? Well, uh, probably. Souji can knit a clunky scarf while still managing to keep it endearingly tolerable, and Yosuke, in turn, can knit his eyebrows together trying to figure out which button to press on the microwave. It's all really a matter of luck, and some people are just born with all of it.

But his acne-free personality isn't all that Souji's made of. No, because if it only stopped there then perhaps things would be a little too fair. He's slim and slender, like a swan in it's humblest form. Yosuke can be just as thin, he tells himself in third person, but when he feels his knobby elbows jut out out apishly and stretch out his pimple-dotted skin like rubber over a toy drum, he knows they're on different levels entirely. Souji can only be accurately described as a boy sculpted from snow, right down to his porcelain skin to his really unnatural and actually kind of unbelievable silver hair. Nanako-chan could cut it with safety scissors , and it'd look the same either way. Souji is ridiculous like that. Yosuke thinks, bitterly, with a bottle's worth of L'Oreal's 10-Minute Root Rescue still marinating in his hair, that it's probably dyed and all, but a part of him knows that that couldn't be farther from the truth. He's seen the way his pale eyelashes flounce dreamily from his lids, planting butterfly-soft kisses to his cheeks with every blink, every flutter, and perhaps he can recollect it a little too well. Would the curtains match the drapes? He ponders, half out of austere wit and other of genuine curiosity. He thinks he's going to laugh abut finds himself wanting to hurl his guts over a cliff instead because _they totally would._

He doesn't exactly understand why he's thinking about this, per-say, but concludes it on friendship's note. _Souji's my friend_ he tells himself, still motionless on his solid-color futon, waiting for the steady stream of Teddie's snoring to set in. _Friends think about each other. It's not like I wanna bone him all of a sudden just cause I think his hair looks nice._

Satisfied with himself, he falls asleep.


End file.
